


Knight-Captain Rylen 2018

by KieraRutherford



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Rylen Appreciation Week 2018, Smut, all tags in notes, before the chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 00:24:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13822581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KieraRutherford/pseuds/KieraRutherford
Summary: All my contributions for the 2018 Knight-Captain Rylen Appreciation Week on Tumblr.





	1. How'd We Get Here

“I have appreciated your aid these long months Rylen,” Cullen took the tankard, filled to the brim with ale from the man’s hands as he took the seat opposite him. “I hope, going forward Kirkwall can handle the continued work.”

Rylen chuckled, that sweet Starkhaven accent still thick despite having been in Kirkwall for nearly a year and a half. Shaking his head, he pulled his chair out and easily sunk down. Cullen and the remaining templars had been busy removing rubble throughout the city. Collecting the remains of the fallen to be given rights by the Chantry sisters. It had been incredibly hard work, emotionally draining as well as physically. Not to mention the rebel mages that sought to attack and seize power for themselves. With such few templars still following their vows, it was becoming a nightmare. One, he and Cullen had bonded over. “Oh, come now, you speak as if you’re dyin’.” His joking tone, caused Cullen’s eyebrow to raise in protest. “When the shipments come in the next few days, we can set up proper resources. Get things organized. Even if the damned Order doesn’t have a clue what it’s doing anymore.” 

Taking a long dredge of his ale, Cullen shook his head softly, “no Rylen. I can’t do this anymore. I…” letting a bitter snicker slip past his lips he looked Rylen in the eyes. “I need to be part of what fixes this. Not just putting bandages over gaping wounds.”

Rylen nodded, “I see. So, what’s your big idea? You going to throw yourself at the mercy of the nearest mage? Perhaps another Knight-Commander would see your reason better?” That dig had Cullen’s heckles up, but Rylen waved his hand. “You did what was right. But I fail to see what a single templar can do against the storm friend.”

“Not much, alone.” Cullen’s face sagged, and he leaned over the table. “I have been invited to join up with the Seeker Cassandra…”

“Seeker? Well I thought they usually brought most templars nervously to their knees.” Rylen snickered, sipping from his ale, “I never heard of one giving invites to someone before.”

Chuckling himself, Cullen nodded, “I was taken aback when she requested a word with me. Part of me was more than prepared for her ire having gone against the Knight-Commander. I was almost certain I was going to receive some form of punishment. After all I make no mistake that I believe myself to blame…”

Rylen cut him off, “please, friend, if I wanted to hear ya cry, I’da bought the harder stuff.” Winking he watched Cullen nervously fiddle with the handle of his stein. “You didn’t travel all this way to Starkhaven just for some quality ale. Now, come on man. Spit it out.”

“She’s heading an organization with the Divine’s help. Looking to resurrect the old Inquisition, under the Divine’s banner.” Sighing heavily, he downed a healthy portion of his drink. “She wishes me to lead the army. I’m to become their Commander.” Offering a faint smile he was watching Rylen’s reaction.

Rylen stretched his arms over his head and yawned. Clearly unphased by his words. Picking at the meal laid out between them, he shrugged, “sounds like you could use some help. Gonna be dealin’ with some green ones. Think there’s room for one more?” Quirking a grin up at him, he sighed heavily, “better to be puttin’ the world back than babysitting a bunch of grown fools.”

Already deep in his meal, Cullen nearly dropped his spoon in his stew, “you, you wish to join?” Seeing Rylen nod his head, he let out a nervous snorting chuckle. “I… I would welcome a friend in this. In fact, that is the reason why I came, but to be fair I didn’t expect you to be so eager.”

Lifting his tankard up Rylen raised it towards Cullen as he let out a hearty chuckle, “then, let’s give this mess a proper clean up.” Clinking steins together, the two sat in a more relaxed calm as they finished their meal. Laying out the details of what was to become the Inquisition.


	2. Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Rylen I feel are good friends, and this little scene for me, is a snippet of that relationship. For day 3. Strong language, drunkenness, and sex reference (not smut, just banter)
> 
> This is taken from one of my other fics [Penance in the Wild Ch 9 ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352706/chapters/30816636)

The Tavern was a buzz with soldiers and servant taking the evening to relax. Over the next two days, none would have the opportunity to relax. Cullen easily sat with the group of soldiers, Rylen offering him a drink. Diana had told him; her evening would be chaos and to not wait up for her. With the nobility arriving at all hours they couldn’t risk being seen coming from the other’s room. Tonight, they would have to be alone. Something he wasn’t entirely looking forward to. At least at the Tavern, he could have a couple drinks before turning in. Nothing more than a couple drinks, and a good meal.

Settling in he was happily returning the chatter of Rylen who saw fit to torment him on his new beard, “perhaps if it bothers you so, I shall keep it till you leave.” Laughing he was pleased to be with good company, and the looser atmosphere let him relax more.

The night wore on, and they laughed and joked about many things. Until it hit a sore subject. Cullen tried to keep himself unattached. Tried to remain calm as some about the table complained. Complained about the ‘Ice Queen.’ Inquisitor. “How was it travelling with her snowy highness?"

“Fine. I have no issue with the Inquisitor.” Cullen tried to blow it off, taking another long dredge from his tankard. The tankard he could have swore was not as full as it was now. Placing it back down, he tried not to let the banter of the group sullen his mood. Diana hadn’t come right out and announced their relationship. If anything, he was under the impression it was to be quiet.

“Oh, come on now Cullen! We all saw that fake Comte and the way you handed him his arse. Can’t tell me you weren’t pissed about that mess,” chuckled one man, who’s cheeks were far redder than Cullen thought possible.

“He needed a good lesson. I may have been upset with the Inquisitor for allowing such filth to enter Skyhold, but she had her reasons.” Again, the tankard seemed fuller than a moment ago and he was beginning to feel the brew as it filled his head.

Someone slapped his arm, “bet she was right pissed at you for it. Come on, she was a mess upon that step, watching you wax her little friend. Sent her packing to her room, didn’t ya!” There was a collective fit of laughs as the group chattered and once again refilled his mug.

“Rylen, are you trying to get me drunk?” Cullen snickered, leaning over the table as he pointed a finger at him. “What did you fuck with while I was away? My shaving kit was not where I left it.”

Rylen burst into a fit of giggles fit for a school girl, “oi. Come now. Had I known you had your desk laid out perfect, I’d have made a map!”

Cullen was just glad the conversation was slipping from the Inquisitor to him. Anything but her. He ached for her tonight, the ale running through him and making his head light. But he wasn’t supposed to see her, and she wasn’t going to make it back to his chambers either. “Nobles, fuck’em!” Cullen raised his tankard and downed a healthy bit, staring it down as he set it upon the table. Sure, enough Rylen filled it again, “I knew it was you, you Starkhaven bastard!”

Rylen nearly fell off his chair laughing, as did the men around him. Cullen roaring along with them. His head was getting foggy, far too foggy for his liking and he was still craving her. He’d have to see to himself tonight and with a belly full of strong ale, he knew it wouldn’t be long. Struggling to move his chair he let out another barking laugh, “Rylen, you ass.”

“Oh, come now Rutherford. You needed to blow of some steam. Been working too damn hard. Stuck in your quarters morning, noon and night. Being the personal lackey of the ice queen. A few drinks will do you well!” Rylen topped his tankard off one last time, reaching the end of the bottle. “One last one. See? I’m all out!”

Flopping back into the chair he nodded, “one more. I have to climb a ladder to bed.” Laughing away he rejoined the conversation which was then turned to his ladder bed. Why couldn’t the Commander of the Inquisition be given better quarters, and a roof with no holes in it. “I like to look at the stars.” Grinning like a young boy he gave a snorting laugh. “Ever fucked under the stars Rylen? Now there is a life goal, my friend.”

“Maker’s ass, Cullen. You’re tanked,” Rylen burst into laughter. “Lysette, get this idiot back to his quarters. He’s drunk enough to fall over the damn battlements.”

“I can…” Cullen went to stand and almost immediately came crashing back down to he floor. Laying flat on his back he was laughing so hard he let out a string of snorts, which had everyone doubled over in laughter.


	3. Evening Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NSFW NSFW NSFW SMUT SMUT SMUT.... enjoy 1670 words. Rylen having some side fun while attending an Inquisition ball.

Rylen hadn’t really given it much thought. Cullen had told him about the two-day ball, had told him in advance of the nobles and the need for tighter security, but that was Cullen. Always making a mountain out of a mouse hole. The worst the nobles could do was get caught messing around with one another on Solas’s desk. 

It was Leliana who spoke with him. Told him about Lysette and Cullen. He felt like such a fool for not having seen it sooner. Or seen that Cullen’s eye wandered a little longer over the Inquisitor then it should. He always was a romantic fool. Shaking his head at the thought, he continued to button up his Inquisition red dress jacket. Tucking the bright blue sash about himself, he quickly ran a comb through his hair. There were expectations, being the Commander’s second in command, about how he looked and presented himself at a high ball. Being sure everything was neat and clean, he finally made his way towards the main hall. 

Catching Cullen along the way he stopped, “Commander, ev’rythin’ going fine?” He could see the pain in his face and was looking to brighten his mood. “Don’t look so glum. Wouldnta want the Inquisitor seein’ ya sulkin.” 

“I’m fine, Rylen. Thank you,” Cullen tugged at the collar of his jacket again and Rylen knew better. “Mate, you need to fix it. Say yer sorry and make up. This is madness. I’ve n’er seen you so low.” Slapping his hand upon Cullen’s shoulder he shook his head, “we were in Kirkwall together, that should tell ya enough.” Feeling Cullen’s back rise a few times, Rylen knew he’d managed to get a chuckle from him. “Ah, there, much better.”

“You’re an ass Rylen,” Cullen sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Enjoy yourself tonight, I doubt I shall.” Sighing he gave Rylen a firm nod before pacing off. 

There wasn’t much more Rylen could have said or done as they arrived at the party. Nobles gathered to dance and banter as servants busily laid out finger foods and bowls of punch. Walking over to a non-descript corner, he steadied himself against a wall. Watching over mobs of people clamoring for the attention of anyone dressed in Inquisition clothing. Bracing himself for the rush of nobles he was surprised when it was peaceful. Drawing in a deep breath he caught a soldier walking by, “report.” 

“Nothing of interest ser. All quiet. I do have a message from the Commander. He says you should enjoy the evening, safely.” Patting his fist against his chest, the messenger bowed before continuing his rounds. 

Poking his head over the crowd, he could see Cullen speaking to the Tevinter mage, Dorian. Catching his eyes, Cullen gave him a smiling nod before Rylen turned his attention back to the room. More at ease as he watched the Inquisitor dancing away, her smile bright, but fake. He wasn’t invested in any of it, until he felt a hand grace his shoulders, “broad, strong, oh, and wild.” She was a thick woman, shorter than him by half a head. Orlesian, by her accent and he was curious about what she was meaning, “lass, do you require aid?” 

Thick, heavy Starkhaven rolled off his tongue, more so than he intended but it had the opposite effect. He was certain a woman of her standing would flee from him, leave his side and escape into the dancers. Instead she seemed intent on him, “ma’am?” He asked again seeing the color shift across her chest, which rose up her neck and tinted her cheeks a lovely rouge. “Are you a member of the Inquisition?” She purred, leaning in closely to him, her perfume rising into his nose. It was soft, and sweet, florals and sugars. Cullen did tell him to have a good time, and he’d have to thank him later for that. Grinning slowly Rylen gave a firm nod, “yes lass, I am.” 

“Oh, I am in such grand luck tonight,” she purred, leaning into him. “Such a strong, and handsome man to keep me safe.” She toyed with the edges of his collar, trailing her finger tips over his buttons before licking her lips. It wasn’t hard for him to realize what she was after. It had been too long. Far too long since the last time he’d indulged. Since the last time he had a woman underneath him, and to be fair, the one pawing at him wasn’t bad looking. Her starlight silvery eyes were warm enough, and she was very pretty. Why not? “Aye, lass, tis a good thing I’m here.” 

She hooked her finger into the edge of his sash and walked him calmly over to a dark corner of the main hall. Slipping into a narrow doorway she gave him another wicked smirk. He wasn’t exactly new to quick trysts. Having been a templar for many years, barracks always were busy. Rooms shared, time and blood, forged bonds that made evenings hotter than the seasons themselves. Being the man who fixed everything laid before him, had some perks, and some pitfalls. He never had the time for true romance, a blooming night of wonderous fun and misgivings. Instead he settled for being satiated when and if he could. There was never a promise of more, as most templars knew. Lyrium would claim that time, or a mage, or abomination. Why settle and hurt someone, when you could dally and enjoy. 

With the shadows and the heavy music filtering down over them, it was unlikely they’d be disturbed. His partner for the evening wasted little time in engaging him. Her lips were crashing upon his, a heady wash of wine and sweet honey from the little cakes Josephine had insisted they get. He’d overseen the baker’s arrival, being tipped kindly with a small sample. Now that same delicate floral syrup was tantalizing the tip of his tongue as he returned the eagerness of the woman pressed against his chest. Her scent was just as sweet, and he couldn’t help the soft whine that he let out as her finger dug into the tense muscles of his shoulder and back. Only breaking from her to collect his breath, she wore a smile that made her shiver.

“What’s your name, kind ser?” she licked her swollen lips as she began to untie the front of his pants. “Rylen, ma’am,” he groaned as her finger tips traced his growing bulge, through his leather pants, as she slowly pulled upon his laces. Her reaction to his groan was a sinful laugh as she pressed her lips against his, before trailing over his cheek bone and stopping to nip at his earlobe. 

As she lavished him, he worked at hauling the plume of skirts up, bundling them as best he could in his hands. She giggled against his skin and he enjoyed the feel of her mouth, tongue and teeth teasing at his neck. With a fist full of fabric, he eased his free hand down between her legs. Skimming the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh, feeling her breath hitch, made him grin. “You alright lass? I can stop…”

“No, Maker no,” her voice was barely a hint upon the air, as he leaned back to catch the look of need on her face. Pressing forward, it was his turn to tease. His lips worked the plunge of her deep sweetheart neckline. Pushing her back against the wall, the skirts were easily pinned up. Running his finger between the rich fabric and her supple flesh he eased her breasts free of their binding. As he toyed with the plump mounds of bountiful flesh, she purred up, “oh monsignor, we do not have time for such in-depth play.”   
Smirking wide, he licked at his lips, “does the lass have something in mind?” Running his finger down into the edge of the corseted top, he nearly swooned when she sighed. Her fingers were still eagerly working the ties to his trousers. 

The music swelled, and the hall abounded with chatter and movement. Enough to drowned out the high whines from her. Rylen felt a tug of guilt as he rutted into her against the stone wall. He hadn’t even gotten her name and here he was ploughing her in a dark corner of the keep. Each snap of hips, her hair in his face, hands pressed against the stone, cool and slick. Leaning against her back, he breathed in her scent, sweet like honey, and heavy like rain. “Lass,” he cooed as he tugged her hair free from her neck. “Oh, Rylen,” she leaned her head back, gasping and moaning as his lips worked at the tender flesh of her neck and ear. He could feel her grow tighter about him and he knew it would be over all too soon. It was by the grace of the Maker he had lasted as long as he had. It’d been far too long, and she was so incredibly warm, and he found it so easy to get lost in the sensation that washed over him.

“Monsignor, I… I…” He wasn’t prepared for the suddenness of her climax. Resting his forehead against the base of her neck, her cry brought him to the edge. He was stammering, as he tried to utter something, anything. “Please, monsignor, please,” she pushed back against him, burying him as deeply as she could within herself and he let out a throaty growl. 

It was quickly over, and she was gone, before he could say more than two words. “Thank you,” he had uttered against her cheek before she giggled, kissed him and walked back into the hall. He stood in the small alcove, tidying himself best he could in the darkness before stepping back into the hall. Just in time to see the swell of the crowd draw a gasp as the Inquisitor and Commander kissed upon the dance floor. Chuckling Rylen righted his jacket, “now that’s fixing things.”


End file.
